


All in a Day's Work

by Anayim



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, I am so sorry, Khirk, M/M, Oh My God, Oh god, i literally made a coffeeshop au, probably the sex at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anayim/pseuds/Anayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have to trust me Jim, or both of us will get hurt. I don’t want to see you get killed because of my job.”<br/>“I am literally a barista, Khan. What the fuck do you mean ‘get killed’?”<br/>In which sassy barista Jim strikes up a kind of relationship with a mysterious customer, and soldier/spy Khan tries not to get blood on his boyfriend’s apron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god i made a freaking coffee shop au someone help me because im probably going to continue this

To be honest, Jim Kirk was shit at making coffee. If he didn’t make it too strong, it was too weak. If he didn’t serve it piping hot, it was far too cold. He wasn’t nice to most customers, he didn’t clean up after himself, and he stole from the bakery portion of the shop constantly.

Christopher Pike, the owner of the coffee shop, was a very generous man. Generous, kind, and almost always willing to listen to both sides of a story. If he hadn’t been generous –or patient- he would not have been able to coexist with his employee, Kirk, for as long as he had.

Seriously, that kid needed to count his blessings.

“Alright, who ordered the pumpkin pie cappuccino?” Jim called out to the shop, leaning his apron-covered hips against the counter, one hand holding his weight on the smooth marble, the other pushing a girly-smelling drink that he had added too much spice to.

A giggly girl separated herself from her gaggle of equally giggling friends, approaching the counter with batting eyelashes and swinging hips. After blatantly brushing her hand against his to take the drink, pausing to blush at Kirk’s smirk, she rejoined her flock to migrate out the door.

With a bored and completely unnecessary, sigh, Kirk backed his way through the doors to the storeroom, blowing a kiss to Chekov, the Kirk-proclaimed “Bakery Boy” of the coffee shop, as he went through the kitchen area.

“Jim? Can’t you help close up, we only have about a half an hour until eleven,” a busy Pike said, coming through the bakery doors, large cardboard box in hand.

“I could, but,” Kirk drew out, climbing the stairs to the little apartment above the shop, “I have a hot date tonight with my textbooks, and I’m afraid I do not care about my job, please fire me.” He reached the top before Pike could protest, slipping through the door and into his little living area.

Pike didn’t mind him joking around, he knew that Kirk would never leave the coffee shop; God forbid his free food and housing source be cut off. Not that Pike would cut him off.

Pike had taken Kirk in when Kirk was eighteen, and had moved far away from his dear, sweet mother and his controlling step-dad. Pike, being a close family friend and an army officer that served with Kirk’s father, let him stay in the apartment above his shop while he was attending the college down the street.

Pike had pretty high expectations for Kirk, but was very careful not to let it show. Kirk was lazy, arrogant, and downright disrespectful, but Pike loved him as though he were his own son.

In the apartment portion of the shop, Kirk had a small living room space with an adjacent kitchenette, which he rarely used, with mismatched furniture that Kirk had compiled over the months that he had been there. Pike had once lived in the apartment, some years before when the shop was still new, but had moved to a house that had more room, somewhere off where the orange lights of the outside street couldn’t glare through ancient windows.

Kirk grabbed his worn backpack from the comfortable couch, which was the shade  of yellow some might describe as “mustard”, and headed up the fire truck-red spiral staircase in the far corner of the living room; this staircase led up to the attic bedroom where Kirk slept heavily until long hours of the day, when he could.

Plopping himself and his bag down onto the mattress on the floor (man, he really needed to get a bedframe or something, a mattress on the floor was not something he wanted to bring a nice lady or lad to), pulling a few of the huge, beige comforters closer to his study nest. The temperature of the attic space was frequently lower than he liked, so he always had a plethora of blankets surrounding the mass of pillows and sheets that was his bed.

A few hours came and went, Kirk juggling his studying with eating the snacks that were littered about his abode and wandering aimlessly draped in a cozy comforter, avoiding his work as much as possible.

He fell asleep still clutching a math textbook, reading glasses squashed to his face, curled up comfortably in his little bed-nest.

So was the life of Jim Kirk, who would wake again the next morning as always, begrudgingly rising from his blankets like a sea monster over a sailboat. After pestering the early-rising Chekov in the kitchen, he’d open shop and make great coffee for himself and mediocre coffee for his customers. He’d call up Bones to come and help out, even though his shift wasn’t until later that afternoon, and then he would go to the single class scheduled for Wednesdays, and drift back to the shop to eat leftover pastries and go to bed once more.

Or at least, that was the plan. But since when did Kirk’s life go according to plan?

•••

He woke the next morning as usual, actually. It was pretty normal. He flirted with the Russian boy in the kitchen, and then once more with the first customer of the day, a tall red-headed girl who looked mildly interested in his pursuits.

It was when the bell rang above the door that things changed. Well, not really. Kirk didn’t care one bit about the bell ringing, because he was already trying to make a decent coffee for Bones, who had been helping out for the last few hours.

What he didn’t see was the tall, dark-haired man walk through the door, wearing a long, wool coat and shiny black shoes. Kirk didn’t see his pale cheeks slightly flushed because of the cold, and Kirk didn’t see this stranger absently pull one expensive-looking leather glove off with his teeth, taking his phone out of his pocket and texting a message with the newly-exposed fingers, which were slender and quick.

Damn, Kirk missed some good stuff.

He got a good look when the stranger went up to the counter, still checking his (very expensive-looking) phone when he said his order in a pleasantly deep, impossibly rich voice.

“Coffee, black,” what beautiful first words to say to the man behind the counter.

Hand on his hip, Kirk, who admittedly found this stranger horribly attractive, said, “Would you like a particular size, sir, because it happens we don’t serve take-away customers porcelain cups.”

The stranger- wait, hold on, we’re just going to call him Khan. You all know he’s going to be relevant to the story, or his description would have been shortened and dismissive, like that red-headed girl that Kirk flirted with. You don’t see me talking about her “stunning, white-toothed smile,” or her “softly swaying hips,” do you?

Anyway, Khan pointedly frowned at the barista, “Perhaps I was planning on staying a while,”

“You weren’t, or else you’d take your coat off or something. Or at least the other glove,” Kirk sighed, rolling his eyes, hand still glued to his hip.

“Medium,” Khan said, with a roll of his eyes, shifting his gaze back down to the phone in his hand while reaching for a ten in his coat pocket, handing it to Kirk with disinterest.

“I’ll need a name to call, sweetheart, unless you want your coffee to get cold on the counter waiting for you,” Kirk said coldly, trying desperately to seem disinterested by stifling a fake yawn. He was torn; he wanted to be smart to this man, and give him an attitude that would make him lose his cool, but he also wanted to flirt with this man until the sheer power of his attraction could life the stranger off his feet, floating in a haze of lust all the way to Kirk’s sad little mattress on the floor.

Having an attitude seemed like a lot less effort. What a tool.

“Harrison,” Khan said, that little shit with his pseudonyms, “John Harrison.” Moving –no, gliding to the other portion of the shop, his presence collected more than a few flirtatious gazes, none of which were returned by the man himself.

Reluctantly, Jim made Khan’s coffee, scorching the bottom of the pot, making the taste too strong.

He left it in its cup near the pot for a good minute or so, letting it cool, until it was bordering on lukewarm. His petty revenge on the attractive stranger’s indifference.

“Harrison, John,” Kirk said to the shop, seeing the man in question come forward. Determined to have the last word, Jim added, “Enjoy.”

Quite pleased with himself, Kirk watched Khan exit onto the bustling street, seeing him pause to take a drink. Sneering, in what might have been disgust considering Kirk’s lack of skill or effort in regards to making coffee, he threw the whole cup into the closest garbage can.

That wouldn’t have been any concern of Kirk’s, but right before dumping the cup and moving on with his life, Khan made direct eye contact with Jim through the window of the shop. That beautiful bastard looked Jim right in the eye and smirked, and damn, if that smirk hadn’t been the most attractive facial expression Jim had seen in a long time.

•••

So it had been three days. It was Saturday, Jim’s only day off, but there he was, still in the shop. God, he needed to go be social. Isn’t that what college kids were supposed to do? Socialize? A little party never hurt nobody but hell, Jim did not want to party.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that _stupidly_ beautiful man that had so blatantly dissed him. His smirk, his face, his _lips,_ Jim just could not get any of it out of his head.

Jim was slouching in a chair that he had pulled behind the counter, supporting himself with the counter while he leaned his chair back precariously on the back two legs.

The shop was busier than normal, although that was common on the weekends, and Jim had said that he would help out. Meaning, he didn’t actually help, he just sort of sat around while Bones spat curses at him and made a lot of coffee.

The bustle of the shop wasn’t unpleasant, I mean, it smelled nice and was comfortably warm compared to the frigid autumn air outside. Jim was wearing a big ugly sweater he had found buried in his black hole of a closet; its sleeves were rolled up his forearms because of their length, and its beige and maroon pattern was horrible and wonderful.

A few of the girls, and some of the boys, liked to flirt with Jim, if only because they knew that he’d flirt with anything that moved. A few even had a conversation going at some point, but they all left after a while.

Especially because he was so detached today. Thinking about those _damn_ lips and _God_ that perfect jaw.

“Bones,” Jim drawled, leaning his chair back once again, “I was wondering, did you see that one guy? The guy who threw away the coffee I made him.” The smoking hot one.

“Which one, Jim? I can’t seem to think of someone who _didn’t_ throw away one of yours,” he grumped in response.

“Well, I was just wondering-“ _Crash!_  

The shop went silent, save for a few giggles. Jim had toppled his chair over without meaning to, crashing to the floor backwards, a bump forming on his head.

How embarrassing. It could’ve been worse though, I mean-

And there was Khan, smirking over him with raised eyebrows, cheeks rosy from being outside, like they were the day he had first gone into the shop.

“I didn’t realize your balance was as poor as your coffee-making skills, _sweetheart_ ,” Khan said quietly, as the hustle and bustle of the shop picked up again and Jim stumbled to his feet, a blotchy flush spreading over his face and down his neck, disappearing into his sweater.

“If it was so bad, then why did you come back?” Jim shot back, narrowing his eyes at the lovely little shit in front of him.

Coming closer to the barista than comfortable, Khan, with a smirk still on his face, said, “Maybe I came for something else.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so I am really sorry for this super long wait. My life's been a little hectic, and I was planning on posting this about two weeks ago.... but a tornado hit my street and I didn't have power for about six days. Yikes. Well, thanks, if you're still here! (Also! This chapter is NSFW! Read if you dare!

If Kirk’s face had been red before, it was positively scarlet when Khan spoke those last few words. Mind reeling, Kirk spluttered a bit and back up, hoping to clear his head by creating space between him and this stranger, John Harrison. His right hand was braced on the counter beside him, as if he were about to just fall over.

Khan laughed a little to himself, taking off his gloves and sliding them into his coat pocket, before saying, “I take it you aren’t working now?”

“I, uh,” Kirk cleared his throat, “No, not right now. Did you, um,” Rather than finish his sentence, he just kind of gestured awkwardly. Man, Jim was really losing his cool with this one. Usually when people hit on him he was all charming grins and flirty comebacks, but this tall, handsome man in front of him was really screwing with his mind.

“Would you care to sit with me awhile,” Khan licked his lips, “ _sweetheart?”_ Wow, he was really not letting the whole pet name thing go. And honestly, his referral back to it was kind of intimidating Kirk. And Kirk was simultaneously loving and hating it.

“Sure,” Kirk said, lamely. Without another word, Khan guided Kirk around the fallen chair and to a secluded two-person table tucked in the corner of the shop. It was actually one of Kirk’s favorite spots, because it was close enough to the kitchen to not feel the chill from the front door and right next to the bookshelves that bordered the back wall.

So this was weird. Kirk hadn’t exactly ordered any coffee, so he supposed that the two of them would just kind of sit there? He didn’t want to say anything to the stranger, I mean, he was pretty intimidated by his cold gaze and, while horribly attracted to the man, he couldn’t help but hear his conscious (which sounded kind of like Bones) repeatedly shout ‘Stranger Danger!’ in the back of his mind. Luckily for us, however, he was the dumbest genius the world has ever seen, and decided to _not_ listen to internal-Bones.

And Khan was tapping away on his phone the minute he sat down across from Kirk. Well. Alright then. Kirk tried not to look a little miffed at this, but couldn’t help the smallest of pouts aimed at the device.

While Khan typed away, Jim took a moment to look around. Bones hadn’t noticed that he was with some random guy yet, which was a plus. People were even beginning to trickle out of the café, because of the hour. A few more and it’d be closing time. Where had the time gone today?

Khan was one observant son of a bitch though, so he totally noticed that little pout. And he found it to be adorable. With the smallest of grins, he tucked the phone away again and folded his hands together on the tabletop.

Kirk’s eyes dropped to those hands, as he said, “So, I take it you weren’t very fond of your experience here the other day, so why come back?”

“Perhaps I believe in second chances,” Khan said.

“Isn’t that a little too profound for a coffee shop? I mean, you could’ve just gone somewhere else with better coffee and probably better company,” Kirk scoffed, meeting the other’s gaze once more.

“Like I said,” Khan said patiently, seemingly staring directly through Kirk, “I found something here I was not quite expecting,” Kirk was lost. Completely out of it; this guy came all the way back to this shop to see _him?_ Well, now he felt kind of flattered. And a little creeped out.

“You don’t even know my name, do you?” Kirk questioned, eyes narrowing. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stifle the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. Oh no, he was not going to get all hot and bothered because a man in a suit made his way here just to see him. Nuh-uh, not happening.

Khan leaned forward, sharp elbows resting on the table. He tilted his head up a little, looking down at Kirk, who was indeed a few inches shorter. His deep, mysterious eyes peered into Kirk’s own. And in a smooth whisper that brought shivers down Kirk’s spine, he said, “You’re wearing a nametag, dumbass.”

And so he was. Well, you win some, you lose some. The entire mysterious charade was sort of broken with this faux-sexy routine, so Kirk let out a laugh. Not a chuckle or smooth chirp or something silly like that, but an actual, throaty, laugh, complete with shoulders bouncing up and down and eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Oh my God,” Kirk said, catching his breath, “who the hell _are_ you?”

“As I’ve said before, I’m-”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, John Harrison,” Kirk waved his hand, “But who _are_ you? I mean, I’m not good with names. I need a story.”

“What do you wish to know, Jim?” The sound of his name sounded really good rolling from Khan’s lips. But what did Jim want to know about this John Harrison?

“Well, for starters, I’d like to know why you came here to see me,” Kirk really was curious about this. He knew he was pretty, but was he pretty enough to catch this guy’s eye? After quite the dry spell of the last few weeks, he was feeling pretty not-attractive.

“I was actually wondering if you’d accompany me to dinner,” Khan stated coolly, almost casually.

Dinner? With this John Harrison? Kirk went to say yes immediately, but then he started thinking. There was something that attracted John to him. Maybe it was his looks, or maybe it was his sarcasm. Either way, Kirk wanted to keep the stranger interested, right? And what better way to do that, then throw something out there that was completely far-fetched. Something that would surprise, and hopefully compel, this good-looking man.

“I live upstairs,” Kirk said, just as casual as his companion, “So we could really just skip dinner and bang now.” Oh my _god_ did he really just say that? He had no evidence that _banging_ was what he wanted anyway! And who says it like that? _Banging?!_

Maybe that dry spell was affecting him more than he realized. And _god_ John Harrison looked good in black. I mean, _damn._

Khan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and did his pupils dilate a little? Maybe. Anyway, his bowed lips twitched up a little in a not-quite smirk.

“That would do quite nicely, _Jim,_ ” he purred. Something deep inside of Jim told him that maybe this was a bad idea. How old was this guy again? What if he had some sort of horrible disease? _What if he was luring Jim up there to kill him and steal his stuff??_ Wait. He didn’t have any stuff. How depressing. Well, Jim was bad at decision making, so why the hell not?

Grabbing John’s hand before he lost his will to fuck a complete stranger, he led them both through the café and into the kitchen. He wove them through Chekov’s maze of kitchenware and to the staircase that led up to his apartment.

The minute the door closed, and before Jim could even turn the living room lights on, Khan had Jim pressed up against the door, mouth pressed against his. Surprising, but nice. Khan tasted warm, the barest hint of peppermint in his breath. Yuck. Jim hated peppermint, Khan must have had gum or something earlier in the day. Luckily it didn’t bother him too much. So he enthusiastically reciprocated the kiss, pulling the taller man down more by his tie.

“Hold on, hold on,” Jim muttered, reluctantly tearing his mouth away from Khan’s. He took Khan’s tie out from around his neck, fumbling with the door enough to loop it over the doorknob that faced outwards. Getting a curious look from Khan he shrugged, “I don’t trust Bones enough to not come barging in.”

Instead of answering, Khan started kissing him again, this time pressing Jim to the door with his whole body. He was warm and solid, and Jim inwardly groaned at the realization that there was no way he was topping tonight. Then he groaned outwardly because Khan’s hands had started to roam.

Then came more decision making. They could fuck on the couch, which would be convenient, or they could do it upstairs, which would be more comfortable. But then they could also-

Oh man, Khan had found a really sensitive spot on his neck. Wow, those lips, when did he move them from Jim’s?

“Okay,” Jim said breathlessly, “Bedroom’s upstairs,” he paused a minute as Khan sucked greedily at the skin on his neck, “we should probably,” he didn’t really get to finish. For obvious reasons.

Khan pulled away, and damn him if he didn’t look completely professional. Here was Jim, flustered and red faced, his hair a mess and his clothes shifted noticeably, and Khan only had the barest hint of a blush on his face.

“Well then, please, lead the way,” Khan said, his voice low and inviting. Jim was pretty close to just saying “fuck it” and having this man here and now on the floor in front of the door, but chose instead to pull him towards the staircase to his room. He kicked off his shoes before he started trekking up the cold, metal steps, and heard Khan do the same behind him.

Was this really happening? Was he seriously just taking this random guy into his bed without question? Yup. He sure was. It was ridiculous, and Jim would not have it any other way.

Before he knew it, Jim found himself pressed to his little mattress on the floor, the weight of Khan’s body looming over him. He didn’t have time to stop and be self-conscious about his living-quarters, because Khan’s lips were already on his, and his hands were already mapping out Jim’s skin.

As Jim felt Khan’s hands go lower and lower and his mouth moved back to the hyper-sensitive spot on Jim’s neck, he took a breath and tried to clear his head. He wasn’t stupid, he really needed to make sure of a couple things.

“John,” the name felt foreign on his tongue, “let’s talk a minute, yeah?” The man in question lifted his head and met Jim’s eyes, prompting him to continue.

“Okay so being awkward aside,” Jim began, licking his lips, “You’re clean, right? I mean, we’re using a condom anyway, but-”

“Yes, I am,” he answered a bit of a smile on his face. Jim was relieved that he wasn’t completely dispelling the mood, but then Khan continued. “I take it you are as well, or you wouldn’t have asked. But I do, ah, need to know,” he paused.

“Know what?” Jim said, narrowing his eyes.

“You are _legal_ , right? I mean, you look quite young,” Khan said, looking a bit guarded.

“What the hell,” Jim started, “ _Yes,_ I’m legal, God, how old did you think I was?”

Khan shrugged, “You could’ve been younger than I thought, I’m just making sure,” Well, thank God that all of this stuff was out of the way. They began kissing again, Khan’s hands pressing and rubbing against Jim in just the right way.

Finally Khan snuck his hands up under Jim’s sweater, pushing the heavy fabric off of his writhing body. Jim flung it to the floor a few feet away, tugging at Khan’s shirt and suit jacket so that he might do the same. Once shirtless, the two pressed together as close as they could manage, Khan’s kisses and licks turning into nipping and sucking.

Jim’s breathing was beginning to get erratic, and he swore that if he didn’t get those _suffocating_ pants off of him, he would die. He nudged Khan with his hands and shoulders, trying to get him far enough away that he could strip down to his underwear, at least. Getting the gist of what Jim was trying to do, Khan rolled partly off of him, his mouth separating from Jim’s collarbone with an audible ‘pop’.

While Jim wriggled out of his too-tight jeans, Khan took his off as well. This led to a whole new bout of rutting against each other, moans and whines so frequent that it was hard to tell whose was whose. Jim ravished every inch of pale skin he could find, and Khan dominated as much as Jim would let him. The two were aching with want and straining against their respective undergarments when Jim finally broke down that wall and shoved both hands past the dark curls on Khan’s abdomen.

Caught in a deep, toe-curling moan, Khan pressed his face into Jim’s neck at the feeling of the barista’s warm hands. A few strokes later and Khan was pulling away, bringing Jim’s hands away from his body and holding them against the mattress on either sides of his hips. He began kissing down Jim’s body, nuzzling into the lines of his hip bones and licking them for good measure.

Jim hummed a little in response to the attention, his eyelids heavy as he looked down at the older man. Khan hooked Jim’s underwear with two graceful fingers and tugged them down, holding Jim’s hips down as he completely engulfed Jim’s erection into his mouth, without warning. Man, Khan really got to the point with that, didn’t he? And Khan was skilled with his tongue in more ways than just in the art of sarcasm.

In no time at all Jim was gasping and pulling at Khan’s once-perfectly groomed hair for him to stop. Khan complied, but only just pulled away, pressing a hand against Jim’s leg to have him more spread out, looking and admiring what he saw. By this time, Jim’s face was bright red, lips swollen from kisses and bites.

“Uh,” Jim said hesitantly, getting Khan’s attention. He wriggled up to the head of his bed and dug his arm under a group of pillows that once formed the walls of his study-nest. Out of this he brought a bottle of lubrication and a condom, both unopened.

A predatory grin on his face, Khan took the items, kissing Jim’s knee tenderly as it was moved back into place around his shoulder. Jim loved feeling in control most of the time, but this was a type of sex that he rarely took part in and heavily enjoyed. Being dominated in bed was one of the many things that he was into, but would never tell Bones about. It was right up there with spanking and dirty talk.

Khan put the lube to good use; he wasn’t scarce with it, and as he fingered Jim into a puddle of need, he reapplied enough times that Jim was starting to think that maybe walking tomorrow wasn’t going to be a problem. Of course, that was before Khan finally took his underwear off and slid the condom on.

Yeah, Jim was going to need some more lube.

Khan covered Jim’s body with his own, his breath mingling with Jim’s, as he said quietly, “May I?” Jim was about to be offended by Khan’s need to _ask_ but found himself nodding breathlessly, clutching desperately to Khan’s surprisingly muscular back. What did he do for a living again?

His thought was cut off by a loud moan as he felt Khan begin to fill him up. With some confusion, he realized the moan came from his own lips. But he didn’t care; Khan’s cock stretched him to the point of pain, and it took a moment of frantic breathing and soothing kisses for Jim to calm down.

The second the pain began fading to pleasure, he growled, “ _Move,”_ into Khan’s ear. The older man complied, slowly pulling out of Jim before filling him back up again. Every slow, agonizing thrust was met with a few needy cries from Jim’s mouth a grunt or two from Khan’s.

When the pain had almost completely gone away, and Jim was tired of taking it so slowly, he determinedly hiked both knees as high on Khan as he could so he could cross his ankles right above Khan’s ass, meeting his every thrust as best he could.

Khan let out a guttural moan and began pounding into Jim, working up a rhythm that had Jim seeing stars.

“Oh, _God,”_ Jim cried, his blunt nails scraping down Khan’s shoulder blades, “ _Please,”_ What he was begging for, even Jim didn’t know, but Khan took it to mean go _faster_ and _harder_.

They creaked the floorboards with their movements, the mattress jerking under them. Their actions were becoming more and more frantic as they neared the edge. With a sudden shout, Jim came first, spurting all over his and Khan’s chests. Khan came soon after, his cry muffled in Jim’s neck, which he had grown attached to. At the point that he was seeing stars his movements cut off short, buried deep inside Jim. A flimsy layer of latex was the only thing that separated them.

It took a moment for them to catch their breath, but Khan was the first one coherent. He pulled away from and out of the younger man, who was feeling drowsy and spent, and rid himself of the condom, throwing it in a garbage can a few feet away. Grabbing a towel off the floor, he cleaned Jim’s chest and stomach before moving to his own, sleepily throwing the towel in a random direction and curling up around his companion, who had yet to say anything.

With a breathy chuckle, Khan realized that Jim had fallen asleep. No doubt he would feel silly for doing so in the morning, but for now, he simply looked peaceful. Khan pressed his lips to Jim’s forehead gently, wrapping them both in the comforter that had been on the bed.  

Khan wondered if this was just a one night stand to the younger man. What he would think if he learned anything more about Khan than a fake name and how he acts in bed. One thing was for certain: Khan had no intentions of letting his new companion go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that this has plot. I sWEAR IT DOES

**Author's Note:**

> jesus christ this thing has a plot help me i have fallen and i cannot get up


End file.
